


To Help Us Survive

by Not2be



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Angst, Banter, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Guilt, Hurt/Comfort, I might add more tags as this goes along, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Insecurity, M/M, Past, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-05
Updated: 2018-12-23
Packaged: 2019-09-12 00:24:34
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,221
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16862770
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Not2be/pseuds/Not2be
Summary: Okay, a little disclaimer. I have not actually watched all of the series. However, I’ve found I’ve really enjoyed some of the fiction written in the fandom for these two. So, if they seem too out of character or certain details do not align perfectly with the canon, I apologize, but I hope it is still enjoyable none the less! Also, there may be some allusions to violence that happens in the show, however, it is not very detailed or graphic, so it should be fine but just keep that in mind.Thank you for reading!





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, a little disclaimer. I have not actually watched all of the series. However, I’ve found I’ve really enjoyed some of the fiction written in the fandom for these two. So, if they seem too out of character or certain details do not align perfectly with the canon, I apologize, but I hope it is still enjoyable none the less! Also, there may be some allusions to violence that happens in the show, however, it is not very detailed or graphic, so it should be fine but just keep that in mind.  
> Thank you for reading!

Frederick stood in his shower in a haze of steam. He wasn’t sure how long he had been standing there but the water was still hot. He looked out the small window at the top of his shower, the sky was navy blue with streaks of pink.

He felt an odd sense of calm he didn’t feel in the rest of his day to day life, standing amongst the tile and under the hot spray. He knew that was irrational. He wasn’t safe anywhere, not while Hannibal was alive even if he was locked up. Lord knows he had made plenty of enemies at the hospital that could be manipulated by Hannibal (Frederick, would consider the possibility that he might be paranoid if he hadn’t nearly been killed twice and framed for murder in his own home). No, he would probably never be _safe_ again, least of all vulnerable in his shower.

Maybe he was too detached from his own feelings and the reality of his trauma at that moment or perhaps he was disassociating. Either way he couldn’t be bothered to care. He slid down until he was sitting under the showerhead, ignoring the twinge in his side. _Useless fucking body._

He could feel it like a sharp ache in his whole body, the question that often popped into his head these days like an intrusive thought; _was it worth it_. 

He squeezed his eyes shut and tried to take a deep breath.

Of course, the answer was always no.

He’d made mistakes, horrible ego driven, vain mistakes. He had blood on his hands. He got what he deserved.

Even beyond that, he was forced to come to the horrible realization that he had built his life on faulty ground. It was hard to remember a time before he was Dr. Frederick Chilton. Scrounging, climbing, sweating, lying, practically _whoring_ himself out, for a career that was mocked by the very people he so desperately wanted to impress. He was a pathetic unethical sham. And for what?

He had no friends, no loved ones, and barley a career now. The vultures were swarming and couldn’t wait for the pressure to crack him. He can only imagine their disappointed and shocked faces when he had told them he would not be resigning and would in fact resume his position as head administrator at the hospital after the _incident._ As much as he wanted to, he couldn’t exactly blame them. He’s not sure why he returned. Misguided pride? Ego? After everything, could he just not bare to lose it, make everything he did to get there feel even more pointless.

As much as he could throw himself into work as a distraction, he still dreaded going into that building every day. He heard the whispers, the snickers from his colleagues. _There goes gutless Chilton. Should have turned the other cheek. Can’t believe he can still show face around here._

He knew the taunts were sophomoric at best, but it still got to him. Deep down he knew he was worthy of their scorn and mockery. He’d stride through the halls with his chest puffed out and his head held high as usual as if he were above it all. But he knew how cowardly he really was.

 _Inferiority complex._ He laughed bitterly. Fuck Freud, Jung, and Adler too! Fuck ‘em all! Even now he didn’t like the idea of being such a cliché. Maybe that self awareness earlier would have saved him the trouble of medical school.

He tried to remember what he was like then. Wide eyed and optimistic? Was he just as hungry and desperate? It made him cringe to consider it.

His mami had been so proud, and he was so desperate to earn that pride to make it feel real. His chest constricted when he thought of her. 

He had vague memories of growing up, his mami, his abuelita and him, he often tried to avoid them in his mind; even the happy ones hurt to touch now.

Frederick remembered the weeks his mamá refused to leave her bed after his father left. He had tried desperately to cheer her up. He couldn’t understand why she couldn’t see how much better things would be with him gone. He learned early on that people do not always want what is best for them. Some people touch the same stove over and over and mistake the warmth for love. He hadn’t been immune to that mistake himself.

He remembered his abuela’s kind eyes behind thick rimmed glasses. She would play old records for him and they’d sing together in the kitchen. She told him he had a beautiful voice like his grandfather had. She did not talk about Cuba, or his grandfather, or her past very much, but she’d cooked him the traditional recipes that had been passed down in her family. One day he had asked her

“Why don’t you have a recipe book?” The kitchen was hot and small, everything he had come to associate with home.

“Because it’s all in here” She pointed to her head smiling.

“Yes, but it’s not in here, abuelita.”  He pointed to his own head. She smiled at him as if he were the most wonderful little boy in the world. He hadn’t felt it very often, but in those moments with his abuelita, he almost felt like he could be something _wonderful._ He could be someone to be loved.

“I’ll write them down for you, cariño.”

And she did, in blue ink and small scratchy letters, and they had all lived in an old shoe box that he treasured. He had lost them somewhere along the way. His heart ached with the loss.   

Frederick had tried to convince his mother to move out from Florida and closer to him. It had ended in a fight, him threatening to put her in a home, worried about her failing health and honestly exhausted. She did not want to leave her home. Home had meant something to you at one point, she had accused.

She didn’t have to leave her home in the end. She died there a week later. 

At least she hadn’t been alive to see this, his life of terror and loneliness was hardly something to write home about. At least she didn’t have to see what he had done. How he had used an unethical treatment on a dangerous man just for fame and acclaim.

Was this all worth it? How could it possibly be.

Why hadn’t Gideon just ended it when he had the chance why couldn’t Miriam Lass had better aim, why-

A loud noise in the house startled him from his thoughts. A cold terror gripped him, he fumbled to turn off the water, his hands felt numb and useless.

This was it. The images that woke him up in a cold sweat in the middle of the night were going to be a reality. He was going to be tortured and slaughtered in his own home and displayed like a grotesque centerpiece in his kitchen.

He could hear his heart beat thundering in his ears and his body shutting down. Fight, flight, or freeze.

He couldn’t do this. Not again. He couldn’t take it, the pain, the terror. In his panic he frantically reached for his razor. Of course, he shaved with an old-fashioned razor, there was not an affectation Frederick Chilton did not know. He slashed his arm and turned off the light. Hopefully he’d bleed out before his assailant got to him.  Flight, fight, freeze, or _die_ apparently.

He had never been the type of person who watched zombie movies and thought that even in that hopeless situation, surrounded by brain hungry monsters, he’d kill himself. He had too much self-preservation, too stubborn; he thought he’d be the person to fight till the bitter end. But that was before the idea of being eaten alive was more of a chilling reality.

At first, he had been so pumped with adrenaline he hadn’t felt the pain. But eventually the smell of copper brought him back into his body and the pain rushed in all at once. The reality of what he done set in.

A knock at the bathroom door, shot his blood pressure up. If he or the maniac on the other side of the door didn’t do him in maybe a blessed heart attack would.

“Dr. Chilton?” a tentative voice asked. _Wait what the…_

“Dr. Chilton?”

“Will Graham?” His voice cracked. Everything felt unreal. Maybe he had slipped in the shower. Maybe he was already dead.

There was a pause.

“Yes.”

“What…who is with you?” He asked suspiciously.

“No one…are you alright in there?”

“What are you doing here? Go away!” He slipped on the wet tile and yelped when pain shot through his side. He desperately reached for a towel to cover himself.

“Are you alright in there?” Will heard a string of curses some in Spanish which he didn’t understand but gathered through context weren’t happy expletives.

“I’m coming in, Dr. Chilton.”

“No-” Frederick protested turning on the light and reaching for the door the same moment it swung open. Frederick would deny it vehemently later, but he let out a shriek and raised his hand in defense. Luckily, he had enough presence of mind to keep the other one firmly on the grey towel wrapped around his waist.

The sight that greeted Will must have been nothing short of bizarre.

A wide-eyed panicked Frederick, the opposite image he was accustomed too.  Frederick compensated for his insecurity in a way that was transparent to will.  The expensive three-piece suits, the perfectly styled hair, everything put in place just so to convey an air of stability and superiority, pompous and cold. All vanity to shield his vulnerable soft underbelly.

Here he was so human and visceral, Will didn’t have to be an empath to feel the waves of fear rolling off of him, his hair wet and dripping, dark circles under his eyes. Will could see the scar stark against his cheek not hidden by makeup, his blind eye not concealed by a (most likely) uncomfortable contact. The pink knotted surgical scar running down his abdomen was only partly concealed by the towel.

Will Graham was not known for his ability to read social cues but even he was about to turn away to give him privacy.

He held up his hands “I’m not here to hurt you.”

Frederick meant to scoff but it came out more as a manic giggle.

Then it caught Will’s attention.

“You’re bleeding.” He said more confused than alarmed.

“W-what?” Frederick looked down to where Will had gestured.

 _“_ Oh.” His voice felt far away to his own ears.

“Perhaps, you should sit down.” Will moved forward to assist him; the doctor looked as if he might collapse at any moment.

Frederick jerked back violently “Don’t touch me!” He snapped.

Will looked only slightly taken aback and put his hands up in the same placating gesture.

Chilton pinched the bridge of his nose.

“What are you doing here Mr. Graham?” _How the hell did you get into my house._

“I’ll be happy to answer your questions Dr. Chilton- ” _right._ Chilton scoffed.

“But I think you have more pressing matters to take care of first” Will gestured to his precarious state of undress and Frederick didn’t know if he felt like crying or laughing.

“Right.” He sighed beyond exasperated. “Just- you may wait at my dinning room table if you like, while I sort myself out” He gave Will a forced bitter smile.

As soon as he shut the bathroom door his knees gave under him, and he did his best to regulate his breathing.

/////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

Five minutes later Frederick was dressed in grey sweatpants and a black undershirt. He had put in his prosthetic, but his hands shook too much for him too put in his contact. _Fuck it!_ Tonight, could not possibly get any more humiliating.

He still flinched when he saw Will Graham sitting at his dinning table.

“Mr. Graham.” He greeted with false politeness, the effect was lessened by the way his voice wavered. But he supposed that’s to be expected when only moments ago you were sure your existence was about to be eliminated in a gruesome and horrifying way.  He limped to the other seat swallowing his shame.

“Can I get you anything-” he gestured towards the kitchen, hoping for a distraction.

“You’re uh, still bleeding”

Shit. How did he not notice that. He wondered if the wooziness he was feeling was from the earlier panic or blood loss or both.

“Oh.” He said numbly staring in curiosity and confusion at his own arm. _Oh._

He suddenly realized Will had been trying to speak to him.

“Hu?”

Will frowned, Frederick was not normally known for his brevity or ineloquence when speaking.

“I asked where your first aid kit was.”

Chilton had to close his eyes to think harder than he normally would have; states of extreme distress, panic, and trauma, can make reasoning more difficult. He knew this, but it didn’t make it less frustrating.

"Uh, sink. Under the sink.”

Will disappeared and without Frederick knowing how much time had passed he looked up to see him carrying his first aid kit.

“Mr. Graham? You are still here?”

 “Yes?” He responded a mix between amused and concerned. He set the basic medical gear on the table.

Frederick looked down to see he had been holding a hand towel over his wound…when had he started doing that.

“Alright, let me see.” Will nodded his head towards the disoriented psychiatrist’s arm.

“Sorry, to disappoint but it does not look like I will be bleeding out this evening, Mr. Graham.” He joked trying to cut the tension.

“If I wanted to see you bleed out” Will paused putting down the alcohol wipe and getting out butterfly band aids and gauze.

“Then why would I be dressing your wound.” There was a joke in there somewhere to be made about _playing doctor_ , but Frederick was not light headed enough to make it. A silence followed.

“So, you want to tell me what happened?” Frederick went very still.

“You broke into my house, it appears.”

“I had a key. That’s not what I meant.”

“You have a key?” Frederick was trying to make sense of all of this, but his head was pounding. As alarming as the prospect of someone being able to waltz into his house was, he was in no state to deal with it; he felt drunk.

“That’s what I said. What were you doing when I came in?”

“Not that it is any of your business, but I was _trying_ to take a shower.”

“Just a shower.” The other man responded unbelievingly.

“Yes, hygiene is important to some of us you know.” It was a lame attempt at a dig, but he was not running at full capacity and was feeling exceptionally defensive.

“So how did this happen then? You’re lucky it doesn’t need stiches.” It probably did but he knew he was not going to win that argument for now.

Frederick’s cheeks felt very warm.

“Again, not that I need to explain myself to you, but I thought there was an intruder, so I grabbed the only weapon available to me-”

“Your razor?” Will quirked his eyebrow and Chilton’s eyes widened.

“I saw it on the sink.” Will explained coolly.

“Yes well, sorry I do not have a full artillery in my bathroom. I grabbed the razor and then…I slipped.” _Please believe me please believe me._

“Slipped.”

“Yes, now if you will excuse me-” He stood up abruptly and felt the world tilt. Suddenly there were warm callused hands holding him upright.

“Easy” Will’s voice was warm by his ear. Frederick tried to straighten himself up and regain any composure he had left.

“Thank you, Mr. Graham. I am sorry to be a bad host but it is getting rather late.”

“Will.”

“Excuse me?”

“Please call me Will.”

“Alright then, _Will_ ” he felt himself blush but he wasn’t sure why.

“I don’t think you should be left alone” Will said bluntly, momentarily shocking Frederick.

“W-what?”

Will shrugged not feeling bothered to repeat himself.

“I assure you Mr. Gr- Will. I am fully capable of being on my own.”

“I’m not so sure about that.”

Before Frederick could get in a tizzy as he was clearly winding up to do Will cut him off.

“Look. Either you let me stay the night or I’ll have to call someone else.”

“I-!”

“It’s your call, but I’m sure that is the type of thing your hospital will have to know about isn’t it? If one of their administrators and practicing psychiatrists were hospitalized for a suicide attempt.”

Frederick felt his blood run cold, he wasn’t sure if he was still breathing.

“I have made no such attempt, and I am not nor, have I been a threat to myself or others. Despite your astute deduction skills, I am afraid you are sorely lacking in this area. I am not… _suicidal_!”

“I’m not sure you’re objective enough to make that call, Frederick” He was momentarily shocked by the use of his first name. “Should I call someone who is?” Will asked taking out his cell phone as if to demonstrate his seriousness.

Frederick felt betrayal, anger, and panic. He forced himself to take a deep breath before responding, he’d hardly make his case if he was hysterical.

“Are you threatening me Mr. Graham?”

“Will.” He corrected. “Do you feel I’m using unethical means to _help_ you _doctor_.” It came out harsher than he had intended.

Frederick looked away in shame.

“Ah. So, its retribution you want.” He rubbed a shaking hand over his face. “Can’t say that I blame you.”

He looked tired and defeated.

There might have been a time when Will Graham took delight in Chilton’s contrition and the humbling that had befallen him. Now no longer seemed to be that time. He felt something akin to sympathy. Why was he staying? Why did he care what Chilton did with his life? Despite these questions he found himself doing exactly that.

Will switched tactics “What would you say to a patient, in your situation, Frederick.”

He recoiled looking affronted.

“What?”

Chilton again looked vaguely guilty.

“I work with a population who has done some abhorrent monstrous things, as unprofessional as it may be sometimes it is difficult to stomach. So, you may understand why I find that comparison… unfavorable. However, I suppose in some aspects it is not far off.” He chuckled wetly, swallowing past the lump in his throat.

“That’s not what I meant, Frederick. I was trying to get you to see this objectively. And yes, you haven’t always been my favorite person” He smiled wryly, and Frederick looked away. Will had the upper hand he could have dug the knife in deeper, a man desperate to be liked like Frederick it would be so easy. But he realized he didn’t want to. “You are not like them.”

“Aren’t I?” His eyes looked glassy and haunted. “I got that nurse killed-”

“Gideon killed her. Perhaps this is a discussion for another night.” It was too late to argue with the clearly distressed man “So, what is it gonna be? Am I staying?”

Frederick sighed “Come on then, I will make up the spare bed.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Any plot holes in this first chapter I will (try) to sort them out and explain them in the following chapters so certain details will start to make more sense. Thanks again for reading and any comments you have :)


	2. The Coffee Cup

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’ve decided to name chapter titles after Sondheim lyrics because…that seems appropriate right? Chapter two's title is a lyric from the song “Losing My Mind” from Follies. It doesn’t have a lot to do with this chapter thematically, but I like it so, there you have it. Thank you so much for the lovely feedback, the kudos and for reading!

“Let me help.” Will said taking the other corner of the fitted sheet.

Will had raised an eyebrow questioningly at the bright green floral print when Frederick pulled the set from the hall closet. They did not exactly match Frederick’s preferred aesthetic, but he had bought them for the spare room thinking his mother might have liked them. They were never used.

“I am perfectly capable of making a bed, William.” If his life hadn’t been one surreal experience after another then he would have baulked at the fact that his ex-patient and the man who turned him over to the FBI was now in his house helping him make up the spare bed. Also, they were apparently on a first name basis now.

Will studied his face for a moment before turning back to making the bed, he didn’t seem shocked or repulsed (after all he’s seen why would he be), Will had been able to see his scar and dead eye all evening after all. Frederick felt self-conscious none the less.

“Welcome to the Freak Show, Mr. Graham.”

Will didn’t look up from his task but tilted his head thoughtfully.

“With all due respect Doctor” _Oh, I’m sure there will be nothing but_

"You could hardly be considered normal even before the bullet to the face”

Frederick flinched slightly but Will carried on as if he hadn’t noticed

“I mean, you are a shrink for the criminally insane. You spend your days with psychopaths, and I’m not just talking about your patients” Will grinned at Frederick, the psychiatrist huffed in reply relaxing a bit.

“Although I object to your terminology, fair enough."

"Besides, I’m a freak too. It’s a privilege to be part of our band of misfits.”

“Oh yes, what a _privilege_ it is.” 

“There” Frederick declared finally, winded by the simple task. “Is there anything else…” He looked around the room somewhat helplessly. The mood seemed to have shifted suddenly and Will was not sure why.

“I’m fine Frederick.” Then as an afterthought “Thank you.”

Frederick merely nodded still looking a little lost.

“Well…the bathrooms down the hall. And if you need anything you know where I am” He gestured vaguely to the direction of his bedroom.

“Right.” When Frederick still did not leave,

“Frederick?” Will said gently trying not to spook him, then prompted “I think we both need to get some sleep.”

“Oh. Right, of course.” Frederick smiled sheepishly but only moved slightly towards the door.

“Will?”

He tried to keep the exasperation out of his voice “Yes?”

“Um. I…There’s something I need to say.”

“Frederick-” He was about to tell him this could wait until the morning, but the man looked desperate.

“No. I’d- I’d like to do this now if it is all the same to you. Please. I know I hardly have the right to be asking any favors of you, but I would greatly appreciate it.”

Frederick felt as if he might burst. As much as he was dreading this conversation and what would most likely be a very clumsy apology, he couldn’t wait for another time. With the impending sense of doom that seemed to follow him like a shadow there may not be another time for either of them.  

Will gestured for him to sit on the bed next to him.

“I…need to apologize. For everything. The _incident_ ” He cringed at the reductive word “with Gideon was in part my fault. If not entirely. You were right, I used unethical means, I was reckless and selfish.” He tried to refocus, this wasn’t confessional; Will didn’t need a laundry list of his sins “Most of all I owe you an apology for how I treated you, when we first met and while you were under my care. And I am so sorry, I did not believe you sooner about…Hannibal. I should have-”

“You believed me when no one else did.” Will reasoned. He never thought he’d be giving Frederick any kind of leeway but here they were.

“Still. There’s no excuse I should have realized sooner. I am a professional, I was in a position of power and I misused it. And I let my judgment be compromised, I did not believe you about Hannibal initially because…” He squeezed his eyes shut and clenched his fists, stopping when pain jolted up his injured arm. “Well the point is I should have recognized the signs. Should have realized he was the Ripper and that you did not belong at BSHCI. I’m sorry.”

Will gave him a steady considering look. There was something the other man was not saying but his apology seemed sincere to Graham. Will had been taken advantage of by more than enough people, and it wasn’t often he got genuine apologies, let alone from people like the psychiatrist.  

“You do not have to forgive me tonight or ev-”

“Good.” Frederick nodded in resignation; he knew this was a more than likely outcome and he would accept that.

“Because I already have.” Will added and Frederick’s head shot up in surprise.

He’s not sure if his apology meant anything to Will, if it helped him feel any sense of vindication.  If it was insulting to assume, he had even been a speak on Will Grahams radar.  Or if the apology was too little too late. Will said he forgave him but…

He felt just as sick as he had before. At the very least one of the many elephants in the room had been addressed.

Frederick nodded and got up “Thank you for listening.”

“Frederick” Will, stopped him before he left “…leave your door open.”

Will was not sure why he suddenly cared about Frederick Chilton’s wellbeing, but he found that he did.

Frederick didn’t have the energy to argue with him, so he simply huffed and rolled his eyes as he walked down the hall way. Mumbling something about undignified babysitting. He left his bedroom door open all the same.

/////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

“Looks fancy” Will commented as he watched Frederick set about making coffee.

He raised an eyebrow “what, don’t tell me you drink that generic motor oil some stores pedal.”

Will shrugged “I get whatever instant coffee they have cheap, I don’t really look at what kind.”

Frederick looked positively scandalized. Normally Will would have found Frederick’s snobbish behavior annoying but today he found his alarm amusing.

Frederick looked as if he were about to drop his coffee mug in disbelief.

“Instant coff- William Graham. Hearing that is perhaps the single most upsetting thing that has happened to me in this kitchen.” Will choked back a surprised laugh.

“Really, because I can think of a few things-”

“That is blasphemy.”  Frederick ignored him, only looking like he was half kidding about the blaspheming.

“I just don’t get what the fuss is.”

“If you’re going to replace sleep with caffeine you might as well enjoy it.”

Will hummed thoughtfully in a way that unnerved Frederick slightly. He did not need Will Graham psychoanalyzing him.

“You had trouble sleeping before…” he gestured vaguely in a way the two understood to mean the horror film that had become their lives with Hannibal.

“Yes.” Frederick replied flatly, although he wasn’t sure why he was being honest with Will, as small as an admission as it may be.

“But I can’t say all of this has helped, I’ve certainly haven’t been having dreams about sugar plum faeries…unless they’re being vivisected”

“Are you telling me you used to have dreams about sugar plum faeries, Frederick?” Will smirked.

Indigently Chilton huffed “It was a literary allusion, Mr. Graham.”

“You consider ‘The Night Before Christmas’ high literature?”

“What can I say? I’m a man of the people.” Frederick said as seriously as he could while filling his fancy coffee maker with expensive grounds.

Will laughed real and warm, it was hardly a guffaw, but it made Frederick’s chest flutter all the same. Their playful banter made him feel giddy and warm, he had thought he would be spending the morning in tense silence.

They had both shuffled down the stairs that morning looking rumpled. Well, Will did not look too far from his usual; messy curls, wrinkled plaid shirt, rubbing the sleep from his eyes from under his glasses. Frederick was slightly stung by his observation that Will could be naturally attractive with so little effort, then quickly dismissed the thought.

Frederick walked around his island with some difficulty, he felt particularly sore this morning and didn’t have his cane with him. He managed to set the two cups of coffee on the table without incident. Even though the table, as well as nearly every surface in his kitchen, had been replaced, it was no longer a place he sat very often but he pushed the thought away.

They sat in silence for a moment before Frederick realized

“Oh, um Will, would you like some breakfast? I’m not sure I have much in the way of food at the moment…” He felt his cheeks heat up at being caught so unprepared. _When was the last time he had gone grocery shopping_?  he wondered off handedly to himself “But I’m sure I can find you something, toast, fruit...?”

“Coffee is fine for now, thank you Frederick.” Will assured, Frederick nodded still seeming a little uneasy.

“The Coffees quite good.” Will added after taking a sip.

Frederick smirked with a little ‘hm’ taking that as a victory.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m not very happy with where this chapter ends but it was getting too long. I think the next chapter will be a little meatier.


	3. Giants Can Be Good

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> short little update, sorry it took so long. Thank you for the feedback and for reading!

“So…do you get many visitors, Frederick?”

It seemed the pleasantries’ and congeniality had run its course for the morning.

“Occasionally.” He replied snippily, if the psychiatrist were a bird his feathers would have been visibly ruffled.

“Hm.” Will said looking around skeptically.

 In fact, Frederick did not have much company. Based on its previous lack of occupancy one could conclude Fredrick’s spare room was just there for a one Will Graham, professional baby sitter.

“I am quite busy with work.” He defended.

“Is isolation good for someone in your…condition.”

“I’m sure I do not know to what you are referring but I refuse to play this game with you Mr. Graham.” Fredrick snapped affronted. They would not be spelunking into his psyche today!

“And all this coming from a notorious hermit.” Will seemed nonplussed at his outburst but Frederick felt embarrassed non the less. Why, he wasn’t sure.

“I’m sorry.” He sighed pinching the bridge of his nose and willing the headache creeping up from the base of his neck away. He paused when he caught sight of his bandaged arm. For someone with an excellent memory he certainly hadn’t given it much thought until that moment.

“Frederick-” Will ventured snapping him out of his transfixed stare.

“Perhaps we should talk about-”

“How did you get into my house, Will?” Frederick asked abruptly cutting off the other man’s line of questioning.

“I had a copy.”

“You had a copy…”

“When the FBI replaced the locks on your house a spare key was made, it didn’t end up to you somehow so…” The older man paled considerably looking queasy as if he were sitting on a bumpy sail boat rather than stationary in his kitchen.

“Don’t worry Frederick, I don’t think there are any others, but we can replace the locks again for good measure.”

Momentary relief came flooding in. He would file away the curious use of ‘we’ for later. Frederick could replace his own locks after all. Well…maybe. 

“But that still doesn’t explain why you would bring it to me _or_ why you simply let yourself in.”

Will looked more hesitant now.

“Jack…asked for my help on a case.”

Frederick’s eyes widened “And you said yes?”

“He can be persuasive.”

“Manipulative.” Chilton corrected behind his coffee cup.

Will ignored him “He wanted to get your opinion on a patient he believes may have a connection to the case.” Opinion. Fat chance of that; Frederick knew Jack simply wanted access and information.

“Why did he not come himself?”

“He thought his presence might be…unwelcome. Or at least more so than mine.”

Frederick snorted.

“I do not care about the details, I do not want to know anything, I am not getting involved.”

“I understand that.”

“You do.”

“Yes.”

He was sure he wouldn’t have much choice in the matter eventually anyway, if the FBI wanted something, they’d get it confidentiality be damned. Besides as much as he disliked the personnel at the FBI, he wouldn’t obstruct a case. But Frederick figured he did not need to litigate that now, when there was nothing he could do to assist while sat in his kitchen.

Chilton nodded absently.

“So, you welcomed yourself in. You have heard of knocking yes?”

“I did knock, I saw the lights on-”

“If that is the level of probable cause the FBI uses to force entry then lord help us.”

“You didn’t answer.”

“So, you broke in!?”

“No, I came in, I-”

“Was impatient? Rude? Nosy? _Trespassing_.”

“I had a feeling.”

“A feeling.” He repeated in disbelief.

Will shrugged as if that was all the explanation that was required.

After Frederick’s stunned silence stretched on Will added “Something was wrong.”

Frederick scoffed “Not only are you an empath now you get ominous _feelings_.”

“Well I wasn’t exactly wrong to come in now was I.” Will defended getting impatient.

Frederick did not care for being interrogated like this. He remembered the feeling vividly, helpless as he sat in an orange suit striped of his own cloths, across from a smug and determined Dr. Bloom.  Running through the snow like a hunted animal from Jack.

“Frederick.”

His breathing was shallow, and he was clenching his injured arm, when he came back to himself, he took a deep breath and removed his hand sheepishly.

“Excuse me, did I sustain a blow to the head? Since when are you so concerned about my wellbeing. I am under no delusion that you have any feelings that could be considered even within the neighborhood of warm towards me.”

 Will rolled his eyes “Still so eager to be liked, Frederick.” Those who break and enter did not get to be snide with him. He felt all of the anger and desperate helplessness bubbling back to the surface.

“Right. And that has everything to do with vanity and nothing of survival does it? You can not honestly tell me that accusing me of being the Chesapeake Ripper, despite the mountains of evidence that would indicate otherwise, had everything to do with well-intentioned incompetence and not personal dislike or at the very least a complete disregard for what would happen to their sacrificial lamb! You, Alana, and Jack would not bat an eye if Hannibal carved me like a turkey at your own dinner table.”

“You’re right.”

“I- what…” Frederick was about to protest when what Will actually said sunk in.

“I said, you’re right.”

 The knot in his chest loosened ever so slightly. It didn’t magically heal the bullet wound in his cheek, restore the vision in his left eye, or all the less physical things that went with it. But it was something. Then again, being right about being despised was a complicated feeling. 

“Yes, well.” The psychiatrist honestly didn’t know what else to say as he tried to compose himself.

“And…I didn’t and…don’t, want to see you harmed, Fredrick.”

Said man scrubbed a shaky hand down his face in lieu of an actual response. The whole encounter still felt like a ridiculous fever dream. Another brief silence then

“Are you gonna tell me what happened last night.” This was a bee that did not seem to be leaving Will’s bonnet anytime soon.

“I do not remember you being this chatty” Chilton tried to deflect weakly.

“Yes well, I remember you quite differently as well.”

Frederick sighed.

The sun had streamed in from the expansive windows in his dinning room and washed over the entirety of the space now, not a corner untouched by the light. He was most certainly going to be late for work.

“I was not…I did not originally intend to kill myself that night.” Frederick decided the blunt route was probably his best option at this point.

Sure, he had some passing and not so passing suicidal ideation, but he didn’t have a specific plan or intent really, he rationalized. Diagnoses such as PTSD and major depression came to mind, both associated with an increased risk for suicidality. But that was ridiculous, he was coping just fine.

“What I have in apparent resilience, I lack in self-defense.” He thought bitterly back to his pathetic attempt to threaten Will with a gun, Will had looked at him completely impassive. He didn’t consider him a real threat for a second.

“I heard an intruder, I panicked.” And there went the last of his pride Frederick thought ruefully. Though his body language indicated the contrary, siting up as straight as he could. When Will seemed skeptical of his story Frederick continued.

“If I _were_ to put an end to this charade” He made a crude gesture to his arms “It wouldn’t be through that. The blood…I think I would lack the follow through.” He could imagine the flashback or panic attack it might cause; just the thought made his stomach churn. Last night was a unique exception, already running on panic, adrenaline, and desperation. Will stared blankly at him not seeming to share his sense of humor. Frederick resisted the urge to shift nervously in his seat wondering if Will was doing that _thing_ that he did, and what he would see if he was.

“Well” The younger man started slowly “it’s a good thing I came in anyway.”

“I told you, I was not-”

“I know, but still.”

If the psychiatrist was being honest with himself the company wasn’t completely unwelcome.

Yes, Frederick supposed, _but still._


End file.
